


Under a Cheshire Moon

by The_Dark_Forest_King



Category: Butterfly Bog - Fandom, Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6965134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dark_Forest_King/pseuds/The_Dark_Forest_King
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bog King waits for Marianne under a summer moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under a Cheshire Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artbymaureen](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=artbymaureen).



This poem has been in my story note pile for months. I only remembered it when I was sorting through my fan fictions recently.  
Warning: Smutterfly bog in romantic action proceeds below. 

 

Dedicated to @artbymaureen, who is made of much awesome and sunshine!

 

Tonight is the Cheshire moon  
when the feline smile shapes its glowing grin  
against a warm summer sky.

I wait in our secret spot where only the chameleon moon  
in a tapestry of colors still clinging to the early night sky can find us.  
Steady rocking reeds in the breeze, orchestrated with  
soft gnarled petals, fragile bones to ward off  
predators is our bed of moss hidden in the tree trunk;  
water lilies bloomed open now close into the waters;  
gossamer wings of fireflies; pulsating in the air  
the nightly cousin butterflies in flight.  
A bat is skimming the water’s surface taking a drink;  
rugged and gnarled, old tree’s bark feels good against my hand.

I wait quietly until She arrives enjoying the beauty of the dusk  
away from the prying eyes of my subjects and dam.  
She arrives in a whoosh of scaled iridescent wings,  
flies into my eager arms, a whooping cry that set my heart aflame.

 

Shush, do not speak a word  
nor whisper of your day  
for it will fleet on the wind like your garments  
falling to the mossy bed  
I welcome your silent expectation  
then claim our reward;  
in a shimmering of my wings beside your broad tipped ones

 

A surprise feast for my eyes is your backside  
We scratch that inescapable itch,  
honey coated sweet pollen delight  
all night long, willow branch snap back  
into our bodies, our mouths,  
and roll down onto our bellies,  
we buzz and flutter our wings  
through the symphony of frogs, cicadas, and crickets.

 

Who knew that shattered hearts could be  
salvaged with just a fight and glance?  
Spent, she rolls onto her back, her hair an array of twigs and leaves

She is a tall switch; grass blade straight  
Iris-mooded and an ocean of endless possibilities I see in her cider-eyes  
A poet’s banquet of flawed perfection and practically perfect mischief  
We rest until the passion take us again and again …  
til we are naught but poppet dolls in each others arm,  
motionless but still awake.

We watch as ghostly swans glide in the dawn mists over the lake;  
the Goddess’ palette paints another morning to shine it seems just for us  
Out of my line of vision She pulls back a dandelion  
creating waves of pollen flotsam that makes me sneeze

Her laughter is infectious as I kiss her long and hard  
Her sweet joy and fire of love;  
sings upon my being, with a song that flows into Nature’s creatures.  
Once I, a being lonely, unstirred and peace-less;  
who know I would become this single flower’s heavy sweet Music.

My wild thing, passed sun, moon star’s light,  
This will become our Song!  
There is more to mend between our lands than the magical primroses that grow along our boarders;  
a trust to tested and molded among two different fairy races;  
I only hope is that this Real Love can bypass all  
the chaos the blasted love potion caused and  
that I can earn a future father-in-law’s respect.

I watch Her as she dresses in her jerkin and leggings;  
the sword now sheathed in a belt loop,  
the only ornament my love needs to accent her wild beauty.  
Our tryst has ended and we part ways;  
She to her kingdom of color and sunshine  
and me back to the mine of shadows and muted greys  
We separate in different directions  
but, first, not without a last kiss and squeeze  
until the next time we have a moment alone

She bears the marks of my teeth and claws like badges of honor  
I wear her colors: purple, black, white wing scales; pinto-patched dusted on my chitin.  
No medal could ever compare to holding any lady’s favor greater than this  
Oh, my goblins will snicker and jest behind their fangs as a I pass  
Mother will ask her questions, but I will remain silent  
for only I, my love, and the Cheshire cat moon know the tale.


End file.
